


I could be sorry but I'm not

by MelodiousPoison



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 01:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12784410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodiousPoison/pseuds/MelodiousPoison
Summary: "What if Mcree decks Hanzo in the face because he bowed to him while Mcree wanted to fistbump."- No quality or humour promised





	I could be sorry but I'm not

The city sparkles in the distance, a gem, a dirty, congested gem that held little value to the bowman. He wasn’t a hero, nor was he a villain, running from one’s past made you tormented. Each step leading away but all it created was a string that could never be broken by force. Taut as the string he pulls where he continues to kill, for righteousness or to forget. One could never be sure.  
Even still, he lets the air settle over his skin like a cloak, orbs of light always changing and unchanging in their eternity. The heavens, a place he refuses to acknowledge, where he could roam endlessly to one day be worthy of one more ascending.  
Until the scent of cloves enters his nostrils and he knows, he isn’t alone. Not quite. He turns, his body responding more than his wandering mind. An ally, a friend. What was the difference in a world that forces people such as they, together?   
Even as he has spent time on this Earth, learning, growing, stagnating, never dying. There are some things he misses. He lowers his head, body moving out of habit, tradition merely a superstition made ordinary. Until he falls, the world spinning into blurred surreality. Did McCree…Just punch him?

 

McCree himself was a wanderer, never settling. Let the dust lay where it may as he moves onwards but never upwards. He got the job done, isn’t that what matters? Sure, he could be a gentleman when he chooses to but only then. He will not be beholden to anyone, especially for the stoic man, who silently spoke of redemption with every sinuous step he took.  
He had a policy, two times he will make the best possible impression someone like he could give. The third time, they got the whole package. Ugliness and all, signed and sealed with a puff of smoke from his pistol.   
Fist bumps were a relatively new, but he liked showing his strength, the promises of destruction if betrayal was even considered through indirect means. Subtlety. You know? What he didn’t realise was, as always, new or old traditions. Clashes abounded when two very different men meet. 

 

So, he had managed to punch the living daylights out of his partner for this mission... Shit. 

 

All he could do was wait and hope he didn’t awaken the dragon. The kind that breathes fire and ruins any semblance of team spirit they might have had.   
Until he hears, soft beneath its breathy raggedness. Laughter. All he could do was chuckle, hiding his embarrassment beneath his hat and the twitching, hidden fist beneath his folded arms.

 

Well then.  
Maybe they could work together after all.


End file.
